


Theneras

by missingnolovefic



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gen, Presumed Dead, Prologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3937336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/pseuds/missingnolovefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of the Herald of Andraste, of Tarenen Lavellan and her friend, Meravas Adaar. This is how the Inquisition began.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theneras

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skydiver_Tomyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skydiver_Tomyo/gifts).



> Me and Sky have been squealing over DA:I the last couple days, when someone mentioned WHAT IF our Inquisitors would meet? We discussed dimensional travel and some such, until I mused it would be fun to meet up together before the conclave. A very excited Sky happened, with a lot of headcanon feels- what can I say, it caught me, too.
> 
> This is a surprise for Sky, ma vhenan, who didn't even know this was going to happen outside the hypothetical.

Adaar waved her elven friend onwards with a smile, before turning back to the templar. The Lavellan shrugged, resettling her staff and small satchel carefully before climbing the hill. The conclave was forming up to be a huge spectacle, tents being set up as far as the eye could see and emissaries from all races and nationalities gathering to hear what Divine Justinia had to say. Adaar glanced over the templar's shoulder to ensure that little Lavellan was actually continuing on without her – she'd catch up later, but witnessing the debate was more important than some racist windbag. Her smile dimmed as she turned her most neutral mask towards the templar once more.

 

Her kin were few and far between among the gathered, mostly Tal-Vashoth though certainly the Ben-Hassrath would have send a couple spies as well. Maybe not her horned brethren, viddathariwere more likely to pass by unnoticed in this crowd. She only listened with half an ear to the templar's bluster, humming agreeably now and then. The humans had a hard time keeping order, less chance to keep peace amongst so many factions holding grudges against one another.

 

She idly fiddled with one of her daggers as the man before her started another battery of questions. Where was she from? Why was she here? Did she bring any weapons? What was in the bags? While she replied curtly, their bags were subjected to another search. Her grip on the hilt tightened and she ground her teeth as the carefully folded clothes and assorted essentials were thrown back into the bag without care. The image of her dagger stuck in the vashedan's chest hovered before her mind's eye, and with a grim grin she held onto it. Deep breaths.

 

“Everything seems to be in order,” the man finally stated, sounding disgruntled. She'd bet her day's ration he'd hoped to find her with something illegal or suspicious. It was the very reason they'd travelled here together. Next to her bulk, the tiny elf looked absolutely harmless. The humans were more likely to hold off elves, qunari and dwarves, but if they were faced with two choices, an imposing horned beast would always seem more threatening.

 

Oh, how looks could be deceiving.

 

She bared her teeth in a smile as she nodded at the man, hefting their luggage onto her back and gathering up the large bundle of rations. She'd barely passed the templar, when a shockwave almost threw her off her feet. Startled, she looked up. All around her, most people had been thrown to the ground by the force of- whatever that was. The skies were whirling darkly atop the hill, tinged with purple and green. Time seemed to slow as the screams around her dulled to the sound of blood rushing through her ears and the beat of her heart.

 

'Tarenen,' she thought, pain lancing through her chest. Then the soundwave finally reached her, making her ears pop as she lost her balance. She stumbled backwards, tripped over a root and tumbled down the hill. “Tarenen!” she cried out, getting small rocks and earth into her mouth. She spit, crashing hard against the trunk of a tree. Shaking her head, she shielded her eyes against the winds, ripping at her overcoat. One hand against the tree for balance, she glanced up and stopped dead.

 

The skies had ripped open and were bleeding a sickly green. Her heart beat hard against her chest. With horror she realized the cries of confusion had turned into screams of pain. _Something_ was spilling out from the skies, a hoard of creatures, black and red and nightmarish, but only specks in the distance. 'Run,' her brain whispered to her, yet she could not move. Frozen to the spot, eyes blown wide, the image of a small elven girl blinked before her mind's eye. Tarenen. Sweet, lovely Tarenen. She had to- she should-

 

“Run!” a voice ahead from her cried, and she snapped her gaze to the old woman, grasping the hand of a small boy, her son perhaps, or her grandson. Adaar watched as the old woman fell, clutching her sides, and the boy tumbled to the ground with her. Dark grey fog swallowed her and the boy up, shaking Adaar out of her stupor. Shouting, she ran towards them, only to stop short at the monster materialising from the fog, kneeling over the woman. The little boy whimpered, and before Adaar could move the old woman turned to dust. The monster, whatever it was, looked up, eyes glowing like embers among coal. A hand stretched out from its wretched form, thin fingers grasping the young boy's wrist and pulling him closer.

 

Adaar didn't stop to think. With a roar she jumped at the creature, daggers slicing through its back with barely a snatch. She wrenched them free, black flesh clinging to the barbs, then stabbed one of the daggers through the monster's hand before it realized what had happened. She didn't give it time to regroup. Snatching the child in her left arm, she ran like the hellhounds were on her heels. They might as well be.

 

“Hold on,” she snapped at the human, clutching him safely against her chest. The boy let out a tiny whimper, fingers digging deep into her leather vest. She pulled the woollen cloth of her overcoat over him, shielding him from the ashen air and from view as well as she could. She kept to the big trees and boulders to hide her form. With the poor view the dark fog allowed for, one could barely make out the shape of them. She hoped ducking next to them would give her the advantage to any enemies on her tail.

 

She stumbled upon the pathway entirely by accident, but with any luck it might lead her to a safe haven. She could hear the unmistakable sounds of battle all around her, echoing weirdly in the valley they'd found themselves in. She gripped her dagger tight when she made out the shapes of templars fighting similar monsters not 20 feet from her. But with only one dagger and a charge to protect, it would be foolish to join the fight. Carefully, she skirted around the fight, sidestepping a blade swung wild, but black blood splattered on her overcoat either way.

 

Adaar took to a steady lope further through the hills, the fog barely lighter around her, only eery green light shining through. Wiping sweat from her head with the back of her hand, the one that held the dagger, she squinted at the distance, never breaking her pace. That was her mistake.

 

Suddenly, the ground opened up under her, and with a startled cry she rolled down the boulder, shoulders hunched and arms curled over the child. With a snap, they stilled on the other side of the stone. The silence was only broken by her loudly beating heart, as the world swam back into focus. The boy! She settled him onto ground, cautiously checking him over. Still breathing, if harshly, eyes shut tight and little form trembling. With a sigh of relief, she sat up, only to grunt at the sharp pain shooting through her right leg.

 

Shit.

 

She took in her surroundings, as far as she could see, but no one else seemed close by. Biting her lower lip, she prodded at her leg, above the knee, below the knee, slowly moving down the leg until blinding hot pain forced her eyes closed. Gritting her teeth, she ripped off a piece of her coat and wrapped her lower leg as stiffly as she could. It wasn't much, but they couldn't remain here. Carefully she tried settling her weight onto one foot, then the other, heaving herself up only to crumble back down again with cry of agony.

 

Double shit.

 

There was no way she could move. But if she send the kid on ahead, he was just as likely to run into more of those monsters as if he stayed with her. Frowning, she tried to weigh the odds, but things started getting fuzzy. Her head drummed like an elven festival. Adaar looked down at the boy, curling up against her side. At least if he stayed, she could defend him until her death. She tried not to think of what  Lavellan would do without her- tried not to think of Tarenen at all. The elf girl was a strong mage, she knew how defend herself. Adaar couldn't let herself believe anything else.

 

She stroked the boy's hair gently. “What's your name, kiddo?” she asked, voice rough from ashes and screaming. The kid peered up at her shyly, still shivering with every sound that echoed down to them. He swallowed visibly, lips parting without a sound. He licked them, then tried again.

 

“Kale,” he mumbled, then bit his lower lip. Adaar smoothed her hand over his head, smiling encouragingly.

 

“My name is Meravas, little one,” she replied, thumb stroking behind his ear. It seemed to calm the child well enough. “Can you do me a favour, little Kale?”

 

The boy nodded hesitantly, hand still clutching her overcoat. She chuckled dryly, then coughed. It only made her head thrum more.

 

“Do you see those two rocks over there?” she asked, pointing at two stones about the size of the child. This time, the nod came more immediately. “Can you fit between them, dear child?”

 

The boy's lips pursed as he stared at the rocks, considering, then nodded decisively. He crawled the few feet over, scrambling up one rock and lowering himself into the protective circle they formed with the boulder at their back. Adaar smiled sadly, shuffling over as well. Leaning her back against the rocks the kid was hiding behind, she dragged her good leg up to her, letting the other lay as it was with a wince.

 

“Good boy,” she murmured and could basically feel the kid preen at the praise, “well done.”

 

She would protect her charge with her life, and hope her hulking form would hide him from the monsters' view even if she died. Gripping her remaining dagger, she held it up to her chest, blade pointing outward and settled in to wait.

 

She knew she wouldn't make it out of this alive.

 

 

*~*~*~*

 

 

Lavellan awoke with a gasp. Startled, she looked around, trying to remember where she was. Where was Meravas? She- she couldn't remember. Couldn't think clearly. Had she been drugged? Wriggling her hands told her she was caught. But by whom? And why? What had happened at the conclave? The last thing she could... remember...

 

Sitting around the campfire, laughing. Adaar had caught some fish in a nearby river, which they ate with a bit of stale bread. The qunari had been telling her childhood stories all evening, then moved on to teach her qunari songs. 'Little lamb lost' had been Lavellan's favourite, hands down. She frowned. They'd been... a day or two out from the conclave then. What had happened after? Had they been attacked? Ye- no? Her brows drew together, clouding her face. They had... reached the conclave. They'd been held up by this pompous ass of an official. He'd been especially mean to Adaar.

 

She'd waved Lavellan on, but she'd been reluctant to leave her dear friend behind. Then-

 

With a frustrated groan, she let herself slump forward. Why couldn't she _remember!_

 

The door to her cell banged open, and only now did she notice the guards pointing their swords at her. She gulped. Wriggling her fingers, she could feel the magic still flowing through her. And- something... else? A sharp voice forced her focus back to the two women entering the room, circling her like vultures.

 

“Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now,” the dark haired woman said.

 

Lavellan blinked uncertainly. The words didn't make sense. Shaking her head, she looked up at the two women, eyes wide and pleading.

 

“Where is Meravas?” she asked, her voice accompaniedby a keen. She felt anger rise at herself. Could she be any more pathetic! “Where is my lethallan!?” she asked again, more fiercely this time. Better. “What did you do with her? What do you want from us!?”

 

“The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you,” the dark woman snarled.

 

“Ev-everyone?” Lavellan asked weakly, shoulders slumping again. “All those people. All of them dead? I'm- but- is Meravas-?”

 

The woman stood in front of her now, arms crossed and glaring darkly at her. The purple-robed woman stood slightly behind her, in the shadows. She had the same air as Adaar, could blend with her surroundings just as well.  _Adaar._ _Meravas._

 

“No,” she whimpered, letting her head fall to her knees. “Nononono,” she murmured, shoulders shaking. It couldn't be true. Not Meravas. Not the strong, solid qunari, her rock in the churning sea. Nothing could hurt her, nothing! But- whatever happened- everyone at the conclave- they'd reached the conclave, she remembered that much, even if her memories were fuzzy.

 

A green pulse shot pain through her arm and she cried out, staring at her hand aghast.

 

“Explain _this_ ,” the dark woman said, grabbing her hand that was bleeding bright green light. Lavellan shook her head slowly, unable to avert her eyes from the ghastly sight. Then the light stopped, and she lifted her head to look the human in the eyes.

 

“I-,” she took a deep breath, shivering. “-can't.”

 

“What do you mean you _can't_ ,” snapped the darkly clad woman as she walked around her again, the other woman circling from her other side.

 

“I don't know! I don't know what _that_ is or how it got there!” Lavellan snapped back, glaring at the human woman.

 

“You're lying!” she growled, grabbing Lavellan by her throat. The elf stared back at her defiantly, but the other woman quickly intervened.

 

“We need her, Cassandra,” purple robes stated calmly, pushing between the captured elf and the enraged woman. She turned around to face Lavellan, who frowned in confusion. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

 

Lavellan thought back, back to her second clan who'd send her out to bring back news from the conclave. Thought of Adaar volunteering to escort her – the more the merrier, right? Memories of the journey, of stories exchanged and songs sung lowly in the dark, of fighting off a black wolf together. Of secrets shared in the middle of the night, with only the stars their witness. Remembered arriving at the hill and then-

 

“I... remember running. These _things_ were chasing me. Then... a woman? Not Meravas. She looked... different.” She shook her head, frowning deeply.

 

“A woman?” the purple-robed human queried, her arms crossed, but Lavellan saw her shoot the Cassandra-woman a significant look. Lavellan put it out of her mind for now, concentrating on what she could recall.

 

“She... reached out to me. But then...” Her head hurt, and she groaned in frustration. Why couldn't she remember _more?_ By the gods, what happened? She was still focussing on the remnants of memories drifting in her mind, when Cassandra dismissed the other woman (Leliana, she called her) and then addressed Lavellan again. She was confused, frustrated and pissed off by now, so she tuned her out mostly, answering by rote. She missed Adaar fiercely. She worried. If everyone-

 

Cassandra pointed upwards once they were outside, the people around them throwing insults and dirty looks at the elf girl. It was nothing she wasn't used to, except they apparently thought she had created this... rift? Breach?  She stared at the green skies. This must be a dream- a nightmare! What else could it be? The world was upside down, and with  Adaar no longer at her side- Lavellan shuddered. Everything was in ruins, lying in shatters, and she followed Cassandra numbly as she lead the way to the  rift to test her glowing mark on.

 

Demons attacked. Then an elven apostate appeared, pushed magic into her hand and forced the rift closed. Told her she was the key to closing the breach. She wasn't really processing any more at this point, mind numb with terror and grief. She simply reacted, did as she was told, all the while stumbling across more and more corpses of templars, more demons to vanquish, more dead bodies of those in attendance.

 

Adaar was dead.

 

Stabilising the breach should have felt triumphant. Instead, she felt empty.

 

 

*~*~*~*

 

 

She felt nauseous when she woke up. The light behind her closed lids was too bright, a headache battering against her skull. Adaar groaned, lifting a hand to press cold fingers against her eyes in hope of relieving some pressure. A loud gasp from her side made her startle, eyes blinking open. She looked around blearily, the world's edges softened into a blur.  Groggily, she tried to sit up, but small hands on her shoulder s pushed her down.

 

“Tarenen?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and squinting at the sunlight. The little elf sat at her bedside, smiling brightly, brighter than the sun, perhaps. She smoothed the linen back around Adaar's shoulders, tucking her in. It took Adaar's brain a moment to start, but when it did, she glanced around the room. She was in a tent, a medical tent judging by the implements. There was no surgeon or nurse inside, just her and little Lavellan.

 

“Hey,” the elven mage smiled down at her, rubbing a hand over her own eyes to wipe away the tears gathered there. “You're awake.”

 

“Stating the obvious, ashkaari?” Adaar teased, reaching out to take Lavellan's hand in her own. There was a warm pulse of magic, followed by a strange afterpulse that surprised her. The elf's face fell, turning her hand over to show her palm to her best friend.

 

“A mark from the rifts in the sky. The shems are praising me as the 'Herald of Andraste', send by Andraste herself to free them of the latest plague,” Lavellan explained with a grimace, then clarified at Adaar's questioning look “Demons. From beyond the veil, or so the current theory goes. No matter.” She waved her hand dismissively. “The only important thing is that you're alive.”

 

Adaar watched the beloved elven face crumble as tears sprang up in Lavellan's eyes. She pulled the girl down to her gently, carefully wrapping her arms around her as she sobbed into the qunari's shoulder. She stroked her companion's back, slightly baffled at the sudden outburst, brain still not quite caught up to what had happened. The conclave, the explosion, the boy, the monsters-

 

“You're alive,” Lavellan sobbed, “I thought I'd lost you, Meravas. But you're alive.”

 

They had survived. Barely, but for now, that was just enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Theneras (Elvish, dream)
> 
> Tarenen (Elvish, minds)
> 
> Meravas (Qunlat, “So shall it be”)
> 
> Tal-Vashoth (Qunlat, True Grey, qunari that have betrayed the teachings of the Qun)
> 
> Ben-Hassrath (Qunlat, "Heart of the Many," an order who serves as defenders of Qunari faith, and unity; basically spysassasins)
> 
> Viddathari (Qunlat, convert to the Qun)
> 
> Vashedan (Qunlat, trash)
> 
> Lethallan (Elvish, cousin/kin)
> 
> Ashkaari (Qunlat, “one who seeks”, scholar)
> 
> shems – shemlen (Elvish, “quick children”, term for human race, often used as slang these days)


End file.
